


Later

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-03
Updated: 2006-06-03
Packaged: 2018-08-16 05:54:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8090053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Trip finally convinces Malcolm to take him to Malaysia. What he finds there isn't quite what he expected. (04/13/2006)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Beta: Kathy Rose  
  
Written for ellie_pierson as part of the Enterprise Ficathon. She requested the following: Tucker/Reed Romantic and smutty. No angst please...Please make Malcolm the strong, well adjusted, horny guy we see on the show. No wimpy Malcolm. She got most of that.  


* * *

As Trip stepped off the arrivals platform into the brightness of the Malaysian morning, the first thing that hit him was the almost overwhelming heat and humidity, more even than what he was used to from Florida. Next came the scents--something floral, and rotting fruit, and mustiness, and...was that curry?

He must have said that last aloud, because Malcolm nodded and asked, "Hungry?"

Trip paused for a moment, letting the other travellers flow around them. "I suppose that I am," he answered, raising his voice over the buzzing of birds, insects, and people's conversations. "When's the next flight?"

"Later," Malcolm said, offhand. He checked his watch. "We've time enough to grab a bite," he said, nodding towards a nearby building. He started walking away, following the stream of passengers moving towards a doorway with "Arrivals" marked over it.

Trip walked behind him, nose twitching at the alien mix of smoke and spice and exhaust and sweet mouldy something. He'd been bugging Malcolm for forever--well, technically, for four years--to bring him to Malaysia on one of their home leaves and prove that this mysterious Reed family actually existed. And now, finally, Malcolm had agreed, and they were headed to Kota Bharu where Malcolm's parents lived and where Malcolm had apparently spent some time while growing up.

So, this is Malaysia, he thought, glancing around. Just off the tarmac and surrounding the arrivals building, he could see broad- leafed tropical grasses, as well as trees heavy with green leaves and yellow flowers.

Trip followed Malcolm into the long, low building. As the door swished shut behind him, cutting off the humid air, he rejoiced in the sudden, blessed coolness. A person brushed past him, and Trip peered over the heads of the crowd, trying to see if there was a food court. All he could see was Malcolm's dark head as he threaded his way through people. He seemed to know where he was going. Trip followed quickly so as not to lose him in the crowd.

And the place certainly was crowded, with people in constant movement as they walked to and from the gate areas. Trip had to admit, so far, Malaysia wasn't quite what he had expected. Sure, he'd expected crowds, but he'd figured that the people here would all be the same. But they weren't--there were Indians, Chinese, possibly Brits or Americans--people from all sorts of backgrounds, wearing everything from saris to headscarves to clothing that was quite western.

Before Trip realised where they were headed, Malcolm had stopped in front of a row of food stalls. Only one of them was open, despite the fact that it was noon, local time. That one was packed with people eating, sitting at every table but one. Malcolm waved him toward it.

"I'd eaten here the last time I was in town," Malcolm said, settling into one of the two seats at the small table. "The food was good, although the ambiance leaves a bit to be desired." As Trip sat down, his chair wobbled and Malcolm smiled apologetically. "It's Ramadan, so during the day our options are kind of limited. I figured Indian--is that all right?"

Trip shrugged. "Sure," he said--although seeing what was on the table behind Malcolm, suddenly he wasn't so sure.

Their waiter appeared and greeted them with, "Selamat datang," which Trip remembered meant "Welcome" in Malay. At least, he thought it did.

Malcolm nodded to the server and said, "Halo. What's good?"

The waiter smiled and nodded his head towards the table beside them, then the one beyond that.

Malcolm pointed--and this was odd, not with his finger, but with hand with fingers closed--at the table beside them. "We'll have what they're having."

The waiter nodded and waved to someone across the small room, and before Trip could even ask Malcolm what they were about to eat, another server arrived with the food. Their waiter placed a flat, square green leaf directly on the table. Then, from the battered pots cradled in his arm, the second man scooped out one thing, then another, then rice, and then some sort of sauce, each time muttering something in the local language, each time Malcolm nodding or shaking his head. The waiter finally placed what looked like tea in clear glasses beside their leaves.

Malcolm responded with a soft, "Terima kasih."

Trip stared down at the food before him, perplexed. Finally he looked up. "What's all this, then?"

Malcolm smiled, his eyes lighting up with genuine pleasure. With his hand, fingers closed, he indicated the bread and said, "Roti canai, a sort of Indian bread." He moved his hand. "Rice, of course," he said with a snarky smile. "And vegetables."

Malcolm took his hand and slid some of the rice into the saucy vegetables and moved it to his mouth.

Trip hesitated. No utensils. Right. He looked around and found that everyone in the restaurant was eating that way.

His hand hovered over the food.

Malcolm noticed after a moment and looked up with raised eyebrow. "Right hand, Trip."

"Hunh?"

"You use your right hand to eat, or shake hands, or exchange money." Malcolm raised his left hand. "Your left you use for...other things," he said with a wry smile.

Trip switched hands, said a soft prayer, and tucked in. He certainly didn't have quite as much grace with the process as Malcolm or the people around them, but he was always up for something different. And the food was good, although he found the tea shockingly sweet.

After a few moments of silent eating, Trip paused and simply watched Malcolm for a moment. What he'd been thinking earlier--the concept of grace was the right one. The man moved with surety and grace in everything he did, even making something that should be so messy, like eating with his hands, seem elegant. And he did have nice hands. Trip always noticed that on people--their hands. It had been one of the first things he'd noticed about Malcolm.

Malcolm looked up, his expression questioning, so Trip tried to start a conversation to cover for fact that he'd been staring. "So, Ramadan?"

Malcolm nodded around his mouthful. "Yes, tomorrow's actually Hari Raja, which celebrates the end of Ramadan. Since Kota Bharu is the most Muslim region of all Malaysia, it should be a good time to arrive." He wiped his hands on a napkin from the pile between them, and smiled. "There are usually parties for days." He leaned towards Trip. "Although I should tell you, the area up around my parents' house isn't as developed as down here in Kuala Lumpur. Still, there are restaurants, which should be open as of tomorrow, or maybe the day after. We should be able to get more than just Indian and Chinese food."

Trip smiled. "Utensils?" he asked, raising a hand flecked with rice.

Malcolm smiled. "Fork and spoon at least." He leaned forward, semi- conspiratorially. "They save the knives for the tourists."

Trip winced and glanced at his hand. "I think it's pretty obvious that I'm a tourist."

Malcolm gentled his smile, his eyes kind. "You're doing fine, Trip."

Trip smiled back gratefully and took another sloppy bite. "I'd thought that you'd only spent 'some' time here growing up."

Malcolm nodded.

"You seem to know the culture pretty well." Trip saw a blush creep up Malcolm's cheeks, so he added, "So when you said you spent some time here..."

Malcolm smiled. "I meant most of my pre-teen years."

"Of course you did."

Trip took another bite, only to see Malcolm staring at him appraisingly. Trip couldn't help but add, "Don't forget your food."

Malcolm blinked, then smiled and started eating again.

When he was finally done, Malcolm closed the leafy mat toward him.

"What are you doing?" Trip asked.

"When you're done, it's customary to close it toward you--at least if you liked the food."

"And if I didn't?" Trip replied archly.

Malcolm glanced down at Trip's now-empty mat, raised an eyebrow, then gave him a small, patently facetious bow.

"You'd close it way from you."

Trip grinned and carefully closed the leaf toward him.

* * *

The next leg of their transport was a short one and soon they were driving to Malcolm's house along some of the cleanest, most modern roads that Trip had ever seen. And the vehicle that Malcolm had rented--that vehicle was sweet, all smooth lines and gleaming silver. Definitely the latest tech, and Trip could tell that Malcolm was enjoying being in the driving seat as they took curves just slightly faster than Trip would have preferred.

As they rounded one particularly nasty turn and began to pick up speed along a long straightaway, Trip noticed that they'd left the city of Kota Bharu behind and entered an area of fields, short wooden houses on stilts, and palm trees.

"Is that a rice field?" Trip asked as they sped past.

Malcolm glanced over and nodded.

"You like driving fast?" Trip said, laughing slightly as the vehicle picked up even more speed.

Malcolm didn't even look at him. He just smiled.

In moments they pulled up a long, gravely path. A driveway, Trip realised when Malcolm stopped the vehicle, shutting it down as dust swirled around them. Trip looked up and saw a large house with a huge veranda above him. It was framed against the bright blue sky, and half hidden by the surrounding trees. The wooden shutters were closed. It looked like no one was home.

Malcolm sprang out of the vehicle and, leaving his bags behind, ran up the stairs, taking two at a time, and started entering a code into the lock. As the door opened, Malcolm turned back to him with a happy grin, and Trip, still in the car, couldn't help but return it.

* * *

"We finally arrive, and my parents are away," Malcolm said from beside the comm. "They said that they'll be back tomorrow..." Malcolm's voice trailed off as he started paging through the mail, and Trip took the opportunity to look around. It was a large, open room, done up fairly simply. Trip was surprised--he supposed he'd expected something more fussy, or Naval, or something, but this place was nice.

His thoughts were interrupted when Malcolm looked up at him and smiled. "Since I'd expected that we'd spend today with my parents, I have nothing planned."

"Wanna go get a beer or something?" Trip asked.

Malcolm frowned slightly. "This area is governed by Islamic law."

"So?" Trip asked.

"No pubs, Trip. And restaurants are pretty much going to be closed because of Ramadan."

Trip yawned. "It's cool hanging out here." He ran a hand across his eyes. "I'm tired anyway. Long day."

Malcolm looked apologetic. "Sorry. I'd told you it was a bit of a trip."

"Nah, I wanted to come."

Malcolm nodded towards the screen on the wall. "Want to watch a game?"

Trip smiled broadly. "Sure, what've you got?"

* * *

Trip woke to soft light coming through the closed blinds, the glow of the monitor lightening the room. Glancing at the chronometer, he started in shock: 05:00. He'd slept through until morning.

He looked over at Malcolm, who was sitting on other side of couch, asleep. Slumped to the side against the armrest with his feet curled up beside him, his friend looked younger in sleep. Peaceful. Then he snored, and Trip rolled his eyes.

Careful not to wake Malcolm, Trip stood, stretching the stiffness of hours out of his spine. He moved to the back door and stepped outside into the soft pre-dawn light. Standing there on the low porch, he took in the greenery around him through sleep-blurred eyes. Malaysia certainly didn't look like home. Sure, Florida had its jungley bits--after all, it was sub-tropical--but this place, this place was practically rainforest.

Hearing the babble of a brook nearby, he stepped off the porch and, picking a path at random, started walking. The path wound its way from Malcolm's house and past that of the neighbours before it threaded through some trees. The water sounds got closer and suddenly there were flutters, soft ruffles of blue and yellow at his feet, and he realised that they were butterflies, dozens and dozens of them, covering the rocks lining the path, and just beyond them, the water itself. He sat down on a large, broad rock brook-side. Legs tucked up under chin, arms wrapped around them, he propped his head on his knees, listening to the sounds of the water and rejoicing in the blessed morning cool.

A few minutes later he felt Malcolm sit beside him, their shoulders brushing as the other man settled. Trip could feel the warmth of Malcolm along his arm and, averting his face so that Malcolm couldn't see it, he smiled.

* * *

"Nothing very American in here, I'm afraid," Malcolm said, his face hidden by the fridge door. He peered around it. "I could probably rustle up some kon loh mi or roti. Maybe some tea or coffee."

"Kon lo..." Trip tried to repeat.

"Tossed noodles," Malcolm said, closing the fridge. "Traditional breakfast."

"Doesn't sound very British."

"We aren't in Britain," Malcolm replied.

"Yes, I had actually noticed that," Trip said, waving a hand toward the view out the French doors. "Roti will be fine, and coffee."

They shared their breakfast on the porch, easing into the day, Trip asking Malcolm random questions about Malaysia, his family, the butterflies he'd seen earlier--everything and nothing.

Trip waved a fork at Malcolm. "So, your sister is..."

Malcolm pushed away his plate and leaned back in his chair. "Married. Kids. England."

"And your parents moved back here because..."

"Retirement. Memories, maybe. Nostalgia."

Trip was beginning to see a pattern here. So he tried another question. "So, what are our plans for the day?"

Malcolm smiled. "Beer. Food. Television."

Trip let his smile match Malcolm's. "So, are you going to answer all my questions like that?"

"Pardon?" Malcolm asked, obviously trying, and failing, to look innocent.

Before Trip could joke back, there was a burst of noise from the house next door.

"Celebration's starting," Malcolm said, pushing away from the table and standing. "Go on out front. I'll meet you there in a minute."

* * *

Trip watched from the balcony as the kids next door played with sparklers, moving them in circles as embers dripped. He draped his arms along the railing and watched as they laughed and ran, bits of light trailing out behind them.

He felt more than saw Malcolm slip into position beside him. "Here," Malcolm said, placing a beer on the rail.

Trip looked at him, surprised. "Bit early, don't ya think?"

Malcolm shrugged, then looked at his watch. "It's...what? Eighteen- hundred hours on Enterprise." He took a slow sip from his glass and turned his gaze to the kids.

Trip pulled his own glass towards him, the ice in the drink clinking against its sides as it moved. He took a careful sip. Ice in beer. Okay, another Malaysian tradition. But hey, when in Rome...he took another sip of the slightly watery drink. He cupped it between his palms and leaned forward on the railing, looking down at the people next door. Someone had brought out a drum and some sort of gong, and now there were two men circling each other, each making strange, stylized movements as one of the other men began beating the drum.

Trip raised his beer and gestured with it. "What the...what are they doing?"

"Silat," Malcolm replied. At Trip's questioning look, he explained. "It's a type of martial art." He took a sip from his drink and looked back at the performance. "Actually, it's more of a dance than a traditional martial art, usually done at ceremonies--weddings, events of that sort." Trip heard a loud whack, and Malcolm winced. "Although it can get rather rough."

"Do you know how?"

Not looking at him, Malcolm nodded.

"Would you teach me?"

Malcolm turned and his eyes flashed to meet Trip's. Then Malcolm gave Trip what he'd always thought of as Malcolm's "evil smile", and waved him indoors. Leaving his beer on the rail, Trip followed, not quite sure what he'd gotten himself into.

Standing on an empty spot of rug, they began to circle each other, Malcolm showing Trip some basic moves. As Trip would try each one, Malcolm would guide him, touching him when necessary to correct him physically.

Trip tried to follow. After a while, he figured he was doing okay, so he swooped a foot behind Malcolm's leg, trying to take him down. Of course, Malcolm somehow ended up on top of him instead, straddling his body, an odd smile on his face as Trip tried to catch his breath. Then Malcolm leaned in close and, before Trip knew what to make of it, leaned down with his eyes open, and kissed him.

Definitely kissed him. On purpose. Trip, in shock and unsure how to respond, lay there stiffly.

Malcolm stood quickly and backed away. "I'm sorry," he said in a rush. "I'd thought..."

His heart racing, Trip jumped up and stepped towards him. "No, no. Sorry. I was just surprised. I didn't realise..."

Malcolm backed up a step, his hands up, palms out. "Don't worry, I..."

Trip deliberately stepped into Malcolm's personal space. After all, when in Rome..."I said that I was surprised." He gave a half-smile at Malcolm's shell-shocked expression. "I didn't say that I didn't like it." And with that, he claimed his own kiss and oooh boy. That was nice.

Trip heard a rustle at the door, then voices, and Malcolm stepped away suddenly. He rolled his eyes. "And that would be my parents."

Trip grinned. "Timing, eh?"

Malcolm simply smiled. As the door opened and the voices got louder, Malcolm stepped closer. "Later," he whispered.

Trip stared into those blue/grey eyes and saw...something, everything, laid out before him. So much promised in just that one glance.

Later. Trip couldn't wait.


End file.
